


Forged In Blood

by lucdarling



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Child Abuse, Crack Treated Seriously, Dark Crack, Demodog (Baby Demogorgon), Domestic Violence, Gen, Murder, Neil Hargrove's A+ Parenting, POV Billy Hargrove, Strained Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:46:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27876290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucdarling/pseuds/lucdarling
Summary: Billy thinks about warning her, knows it wouldn't do any good. Soon enough they both orbit his dad like dying stars, hoping it's enough.He comes home one day when they live in Hawkins and sees Susan's cast, the handprint on his dad's cheek. Billy knows everything has changed.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove & Susan Hargrove, Neil Hargrove/Susan Hargrove
Comments: 33
Kudos: 113





	Forged In Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [handydandynotebook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/handydandynotebook/gifts).
  * Inspired by [nex](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27788278) by [handydandynotebook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/handydandynotebook/pseuds/handydandynotebook). 



> This is dedicated to handydandynotebook, who has written fascinating Susan Hargrove stories and given me many feelings about her relationship with Billy. Thank you pal, I adore you and I look forward to every word you craft.
> 
> This is a remix of their work "Nex" so you know how this story is going to end. My working title for this involved the words Murder Duo, for the record. I know absolutely nothing about cars, once again. This is fiction.
> 
> ETA: I've never broken a bone before, so just deal with a navy blue plaster cast. luna in the comments tells me plaster casts only come in white, it's fiberglass ones which can be colorful.

Billy thinks about warning her, this new woman hanging off his father’s arm like he’s actually some sort of prince. He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing and these ladies always see it too late if they bother to stick around.

He says nothing, knows it will come out soon enough.

Susan and Max move into the house before the wedding, making it too small for four people. Of course it comes out of Billy’s hide.

“He’s just rambunctious,” his dad says at the dinner table as Billy tries to chew his food with a fat lip. He had talked back, gotten smacked. Sometimes it was easier to ask for it, something small that Billy could handle before his dad actually blew his top.

Billy kicks Max under the table and she stops staring with those innocent eyes. They’ve shared a house for almost two months now and she’s like a shadow he didn’t ask for. At least she keeps his dad off his back most of the time so he allows it.

Susan comes to his room, after the dishes have been washed and put up to dry. It doesn’t escape Billy’s attention that his dad is on his third beer and would only notice if the game was turned off.

She taps lightly on his door, hovering but not entering. “Do you need some ice?”

“If I needed some ice,” Billy snarls. “I would have got it myself.”

Max punches his arm, he slugs her back. She winces but doesn’t cry out. Billy knew she was a tough kid, good thing to be in these four walls even if his dad still treats her like the golden child. Billy wonders if Susan knows the depths of Billy’s responsibilities and the punishments when he inevitably misses a step.

“Come here, Max.” Her mother beckons, a frightened thing as Max sits at his side going through his cassettes to make fun of the hairstyles and outfits. “You still need to take a shower after your adventure at the park today.”

“Adventure, huh?” Billy lets his tongue tease between his teeth, a tired leer that passes Max right by.

“Now, Maxine.” Susan snaps and Max rolls her eyes. They leave the room together, mother’s arm tight around her daughter like Billy is the wolf.

Susan and Billy manage to exist in the same house by orbiting around his dad and his rules. He yells when he wants, when the rage is all consuming, knowing she won’t do a thing to stop him. She stays well back when Neil starts in on him, quiet like a mouse and hunched inwards. Billy wonders how many bruises she’s hiding under those dresses or if he’s only the lucky one with his dad’s attention.

He can’t decide which would be worse - being the only one or having this in common.

It doesn’t matter, she’s no mother to him.

That’s made clear a few weeks before the fated move to Hawkins.

The ladies aren’t around, shopping in town for some upcoming party for one of Max’s little friends or something. Billy was surprised she had any, seeing as she spent most of her time at the skate park or on the beach.

His dad is upset and Billy eggs him on with muttered comments. It doesn’t help that he’s just gotten kicked out of another store by the pier, though it really wasn’t his fault this time. He doesn’t notice it’s the dangerous kind of quiet until it’s too late.

Billy gets his car keys taken away for the rest of the week and then the belt, in the middle of the day.

It’s been a while but his body remembers quickly enough. His dad has restrained himself to bruises in dizzying colors and places the occasional mark on his face. Everything can be explained by the friends Billy hangs out with - how they like to imagine themselves as tough, boys will be boys roughhousing. Neil always has excuses.

There’s no excusing this though, not with Billy on his knees on the kitchen tile and biting back a scream.

Max enters the room first and her freckles stand out in sharp relief as the color drains from her face. The bag in her hand shakes but she sets it on the counter.

“Excuse us for a moment, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” Billy can hazily hear his dad’s voice above him. He’s mostly concentrating on not passing out, skin set aflame with each lick of leather on flesh.

“What are you doing? Even if Billy was b-bad,” Max stutters to a stop. Billy watches her sneakers stumble over nothing, like she can’t decide if she dares get between them. He hopes she doesn’t.

Neil doesn’t answer, not when Susan is now in the room. Billy turns his head up, watches the woman take in the room. His arms shake, threatening to drop him on his face to the tile. At least it would be cool.

“Let’s go put away your new clothes, Max.” Susan says and takes her daughter by the arm. She doesn’t protest what she walked in on even though Neil is done with his lesson thanks to the interruption.

“Clean yourself up, boy.”

“Yes, sir.”

Billy doesn’t eat dinner with the rest of the so-called family, uses the time to shut himself away in the bathroom alone to gingerly clean the welts. The sound of the shower masks all the gasps and cries he can’t keep to himself. The music he blares in his room covers the sounds of his sobbing as he hunches over his knees despite how it stretches his skin.

No one comes in to tell him to turn the volume down.

Max sneaks in after the lights have gone out. The sound of snores emanate faintly from the master bedroom. Billy hates how well his dad sleeps when he can’t even entertain the possibility of sleep for fear of turning wrong.

She stares at him, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

“I brought you a granola bar,” Max offers up hesitantly. “And the Tylenol.”

Billy sighs quietly, turns on his radio to cover their conversation. Him playing music late at night is a common occurrence, especially after his dad has hit the wall. Or more likely, after Billy has literally hit the wall.

“You trying to murder me?” Billy jokes, even as he downs two of the new capsules that aren’t fully gelatin but are purportedly tamper-proof.

“No cyanide here,” Max smirks and Billy gives her a shadow of one in return, one side of his mouth upturned. He downs the granola bar in three large bites, balling up the wrapper and throwing it across the room. It falls short and lands on the carpet; he doesn’t care but Max leans down to pick it up.

She isn’t so stupid to ask if he’s okay. He’s glad of that, isn’t sure he has enough energy left to lie to her.

“Hey,” Billy says as Max turns to leave. “You come in the house and you hear something going down? You turn around and leave. I saw you trying to decide about coming in between me and dad. I don’t want you doing that.”

Max’s eyes look bright even in the dim lighting but she nods.

“Good.” Billy dismisses her, turns his music up a little louder as Metallica plays at the top of the hour. “Now get outta my room.”

Their relationship shifts after that. Billy tries to forget the utter humiliation under anger and Max tries to forget it entirely. They both spend hours outside of the house, in different parts of town. Billy picks her up at the end of the night and drops her back home, turning right around to head back out to a party or just watch the moon play on the waves until beach patrol runs him off.

He and Susan don’t talk about it at all, of course. She tries and he rebuffs her, over and again, until she stops trying.

Then they move to Hawkins, enough time for Billy’s welts to scab over and heal. Just another few lines on his body, nothing to see here folks.

A brand new town where no one knows them; Billy expects the worst.

It takes a while, the first few weeks notwithstanding. Billy certainly hadn’t expected Max to grow a spine and aim for his balls. He brings her home though, head dizzy and body aching.

Max’s face is permanently stuck glaring at him whenever she looks in Billy’s direction after that, until he apologizes to her and her nerdy friends after the middle school dance.

His dad behaves until the cold presumably sets him off. Until being indoors is too much. Billy doesn’t know what sets him off and doesn’t care. He floats through it, goes through little jars of arnica cream that he buys two towns over so the nice lady at Melvald’s stops giving him that particular type of doe-eyed look that sees right through him.

Billy’s dealing, and knows that Susan is too.

She wears long sleeves and turtlenecks as the weather shifts to cool. She’s got breakfast plated and coffee poured with a smile every morning, dinner ready at six o’clock on the dot.

Billy could tell her following the rules won’t make his dad any more bearable but she still tries.

He takes his lumps, heals, rinse and repeat. The whole house knows and does nothing. Susan leaves the room as fast as she can when it even begins to look like things are going to turn south.

Billy doesn’t know when Max gets thrown into the equation. He doesn’t notice it himself, not until he hears his dad’s voice hissing threats about the company she keeps and what might happen.

He breaks the coffee pot, earns a mild concussion and little thanks for the effort. At least Max is spared, for now. He and Susan are in agreement on that point, though they’ve never talked about it outright.

Life goes on in the house on Cherry Lane.

Billy comes home and doesn’t need to ask what’s happened. Susan’s wrist is in a navy blue cast and his father is clunking around in the garage. Max is in her room with the door shut.

Billy checks on her first, the youngest in the house. He does a double take when he walks in.

“Whoa. Nice haircut, snips.” Billy whistles, impressed.

Max whips around, hair no longer flying around her face with the sudden movement. He doesn’t comment on the tear tracks he can see in the lamp light from her desk.

“Got tired of my dad yanking on it, huh?” Billy takes an uninvited seat on her bed. She scowls and kicks at him halfheartedly.

“My mom slapped him,” Max murmurs and Billy sits upright, adrenaline rushing through him at the words.

“No shit, she actually left a mark?”

“Bright red handprint,” Max confirms. “Then he broke her wrist. She drove us both to the ER, said I couldn’t stay in the house alone any longer. It sucked, a lot.”

Billy frowns at that, hopes this new rule won’t mean the end of his partying on the weekend. He has no desire to stay at home just to watch the brat, since her presence hasn’t deterred his dad.

“Yeah, I saw her cast. So he pulled your hair, that all?”

Max shrugs awkwardly. “Basically.” Billy doesn’t push and Max continues, “He apologized when we got home, had a pile of Reese’s for me. I put them in my desk drawer, didn’t want to look at them.”

“Ah,” Billy hums. “Hope you said thank you like a good girl.”

Max sighs and leaves the safety of her desk chair to flop down on her bed. Her head is right next to his thigh now, short red strands askew. Billy doesn’t touch them.

“I did.” Max frowns and lowers her voice. “Is that, normal? You don’t get gifts after he’s laid you out on the floor.”

“Because I’m getting taught a lesson,” Billy repeats dully, scrubs a hand over his face. The door to Max’s room is still open from when he walked in. “You’re different, Max. Not only are you not his kid, however much he says otherwise, you’re a girl. It’s always gonna be different with you.”

“Until it isn’t,” Billy says seriously, very quietly. “I got presents too at first, for taking a whipping without making a sound. For repeating the words my dad wanted to hear. They stopped coming after a while.”

Max presses her face against her comforter, shoulders quaking. Billy still doesn’t touch her.

“He hit my mom,” Max complains in a thin voice. “She didn’t even make a sound until we were in the car, like he’s done this before. I didn’t know, I swear.”

“I know,” Billy says. His hand lands on her shoulder, a light fleeting touch and then gone as he pushes himself up from her bed. “Just act normal at dinner, don’t say a word or look at his face if you can help it.” 

Billy’s going to be doing his best not to laugh, honestly. His dad should have known better than to strike Max or whatever he actually did in front of her own mom. Max shouldn’t have been hit at all to begin with.

He wishes he could say more but each moment he spends in Max’s room invites questions. He wishes he had been in the house, been able to get between his dad and Max’s mom. Billy wishes a lot of things that don’t come true.

Dinner that night is quiet. His dad doesn’t say much beyond ordering Billy to cut up Susan’s food for her. She’s paler than normal and will definitely be ready for a pain pill by the end of the meal.

The handprint on his cheek is flushed red and Billy wonders if he’ll call out of work until it heals. He thinks about taking Max out of the house that night, maybe the next couple of nights. It’s the middle of the week, she’s not allowed to have sleepovers with her friend until at least Friday night.

His head hurts thinking around plans so he pushes his own food around his plate. They finish the meal in silence as a so-called family.

He doesn’t take Max out of the house because she refuses to leave her mother alone. Billy doesn’t have it in him to argue after what she witnessed with her own two eyes.

Max walks around on eggshells for a little bit, slowly gaining her spunk and fire back. Billy encourages her loosely, reins her in with a well-placed glare or a rather gentle boot when necessary.

He and Susan trade looks in the mornings as she struggles to do her daily routine with one hand before becoming used to the challenges. They don’t speak anything aloud but they both know things have changed.

It’s the calm after the storm, in the weeks that follow.

Billy shouldn’t be awake because it’s that weird time between being too late and far too early. But something woke him so he lies in his bed and waits to see what it was.

A beam of light, sweeping over his window. A muffled curse, softly spoken.

If the house is being robbed, they’re not doing a very good job of it.

He pries himself away from the warmth of his sheets, scratchy as they are, and goes to investigate. His window lets out on the porch and it’s a quick walk around the side of the house where the light came from.

No one is there, not that he expected any different.

Billy sees the surprise when he rounds the corner to the back of the house, where his dad’s Chevy truck is blocking his car against the garage.

Susan’s pink bunny slippers are washed out in the moonlight but they still catch his eye. Another swear he’s surprised she knew slips free from underneath the truck’s popped hood.

“Isn’t it a little late for engine repairs, Sue?” Billy calls out softly and the woman spins around.

Billy stands very still, because that cast on her arm comes off in a week’s time and it’s heavy. What’s more alarming are the gardening shears in her other hand, held in a white-knuckled grip.

“What are you doing out of bed at this hour?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Billy points out. He takes a step closer and sees the truck’s manual open on the engine block. The thin flashlight holds the page, beam cutting over the yard.

“It’s not safe,” Susan says with a small smile that he’s never seen before. “These old trucks you know, sometimes the parts just wear away. I don’t really know much about cars.”

“I can tell,” Billy answers dryly. “I can also guess you’re wanting to cut the brake lines, which is better done from below.”

“Shoot,” Susan’s disappointment is a neon sign written on her face and Billy does a bad job of hiding his chuckle.

Susan pulls her robe tighter around her thin body and the sight is so incongruous Billy has to blink twice. It’s the middle of the night, he’s standing with his stepmom by his dad’s truck and they’re talking in veiled terms about murder.

It becomes much less veiled when Susan crouches down and wiggles under the truck. Her fuzzy pink bunny slippers that Max gave her a gift last Christmas point up towards the sky.

Susan grunts, flashlight bouncing as it falls to the ground.

“I can’t get it,” she sounds frustrated, more emotion than Billy has heard from her in literally years. “This stupid cast won’t let me get a good grip.”

Billy sighs and wishes he had a cigarette. He crouches down, puts a gentle hand on her delicate ankle.

“Give it here, I’ll do it.” It’s not like Billy hasn’t thought about it before. He has, lots of times. Never followed through for one reason or another, mostly because the foster care system sucks and he’s close enough to eighteen now it’s better to just grit his teeth through the pain.

Susan slides out from under the truck, hair sticking straight out from the static in places. Billy has never felt less like laughing and she’s frowning.

“You really shouldn’t, Billy.” The damned shears are hidden under the bulk of the truck, her hand still on them. He wonders if she means to stab him and drag his body out to the woods.

“You know he’s not going to stop,” Billy points out cruelly. “This is just the start, unless you want to be like my mom and leave.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Susan sighs and Billy rocks back on his heels at the confession. “We can talk more about it later, you should head inside. You have school tomorrow, unless you’re going to skip for the second time this month.”

She raises an eyebrow and Billy gives her a rueful smile, a shrug.

“I was serious, Sue. Let me get under there. It’ll take two seconds and then we’ll all be free.” He knows that neither of them are doing this, entertaining the idea for either of themselves.

Susan’s hand doesn’t shake as she passes him the gardening tool. Billy clambers under his dad’s truck, flashlight held between his teeth.

He can still see those damned pink bunny slippers if he tilts his head down on his chest.

Her body thumps against the truck and the shears slip from his grasp to nail him in the chest. Billy groans as quietly as he can, tucks his feet close up to the bumper in case he needs to kick out.

It would be a poor move, not much power behind it but better than nothing.

There’s a skittering of claws and Billy’s heart starts beating again. It’s not his father, just a dumb dog who jumped the fence.

Susan’s sharp intake of breath has him snipping at the lines, leaving them ragged but sort of intact. It’ll hopefully look like they wore away and not pre-meditated murder should anyone in this small town choose to investigate.

“Hey, get out of here!” Susan’s voice is firm to the dog and Billy starts to get out from under the car. 

The pink bunny kicks out in an attempt to scare the creature away from Billy still on the ground. There’s an odd sound, like some sort of animal he’s never heard before chittering.

His head is clearing the bumper when she traps a scream between her teeth.

Billy rolls out from under the truck, shears held defensively. Susan is against the truck’s passenger side door, casted arm stuck in the mouth of something he’s never seen before.

Teeth are clamped onto Susan’s arm, disengaging and trailing strips of plaster as it pulls back. The mouth is horrific, like flower petals with a toothy yawning max.

It screams at them with no eyes. Shrieks, really. Susan trembles and Billy jabs at it one-handed with the shears as he pushes Susan back against the truck. He gets his other hand on the handle and snaps at it.

Then there’s a shock of red hair from the other side of the house and the creature howls.

Max swings a bat that Billy remembers all too well and it lands with a wet thwack in the creature’s side. She pulls it out, makes a disgusted face but swings again and misses. The creature hisses and Billy thinks it sounds mocking.

Susan is stuck to the side of the truck, good hand splayed out like it’s the only thing that’s keeping her upright. Max swings again and she moves past Billy, grabbing at the shears in his hands.

He gives them up without a fight and watches the two of them attack like red haired furies in the night. It’s wounded, bleeding and limping down the street until it disappears between some houses.

The three of them are left standing in a line with Max in the middle on the cracked pavement of the driveway. It’s the middle of the night and lights are starting to flicker around the neighborhood.

“What was that thing?”  
“Won’t Neil wake up?”

Susan shakes her head, wipes sweat from her hairline as her hand shakes. Billy tries to remember if he has any pills left in the first aid kit underneath his bed to share.

“Neil is asleep, and will be until morning.” Susan says calmly. She ushers them toward the house with a wave of her hand. Billy can read between the lines but it takes Max a minute. When she gets it, her mouth drops open a little. “I have no idea what that thing was, something out of a nightmare.”

“Good going,” Billy mutters under his breath at the first statement. He doesn’t care what the creature was, only that he can be properly armed next time. He turns to Max, who looks less like an avenging angel and more like the child she actually is.

“The hell are you doing with that?”

“Protection.” Max says simply and now Billy gets to watch her mom’s mouth fall.

“Jesus,” Billy swears. “Learn how to swing a bat. Lead with your hips, pop the knob almost behind you and feel the stretch.” He motions to his ribs where the muscle is. “Hips turn and then you strike. You’ll get more power but I guess you didn’t do a half bad job.”

Max looks spitting mad but one glance from her mom has her mostly biting her tongue. “I suppose you’re the expert? I seem to remember it going differently not too long ago.”

Billy rolls his eyes and sneers at her. “No tranq handy, how about that. With years of Little League, I definitely call the bat next time.”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time,” Susan says hoarsely. She looks pale and Max wraps her arms around her waist.

“Cheers to that,” Billy says and nods his head at her while Max’s face is buried against her bathrobe. Susan gives him a wan smile and Billy leaves the two hugging outside the bathroom.

He digs through his pile of bandages and braces and medication, finds the little bottle he kept when his dad broke his arm. He told the hospital he fell from the lifeguard stand at Santa Monica pier trying to impress his friends. Billy wonders what lie Susan told at the Hawkins ER, what lie she’ll tell to get the cast fixed up.

Maybe she won’t since it’s due to come off soon. Billy only knows the date since he’ll be driving her to the appointment. He thinks it might not be a bad idea to do some maintenance on his own car in the coming days but feels like Susan wouldn’t screw him over that badly.

He ferries Max to and from school and all around town, after all. Susan isn’t stupid.  
Neil is quiet at breakfast but he’s never been a morning person. None of them are but Susan, who has learned over the years to temper it.

Billy notices with a quick glance that Susan has made her cast look worse. The tooth marks aren’t as obvious and he wonders what she did to it while he and Max slept.

It doesn’t matter, in the end. His dad doesn’t ask about it and drives off to work like normal.

Susan exhales a deep breath and smiles with all of her teeth.

Billy pours himself a mug of coffee and sips at it as Max runs around trying to find her other shoe. He could tell her that it’s under the coffee table but where would the fun be in that?

So he and Susan sit at the kitchen table and drink their coffee with matching smiles.

They know it’s going to take a few days, nothing can or should be done with expediency.

They get lucky, as it turns out.

Neil’s truck hits a patch of ice and skids off the road. A tree, a crunch and it’s just another fatality claimed by winter.

Susan doesn’t even dab at her eyes when the police officer arrives to break the news, hat in hand.

Billy drives Susan to the appointment when she gets her cast off a week later.

“Bet you’ll be real glad to finally scratch that itch, huh?” Billy says, staring straight ahead at the road. He’s not sure he’s held a conversation in a normal tone of voice with the woman before, isn’t certain why he’s reaching out now.

“Yes.” Susan says, hands folded neatly in her lap. “It will be nice to be able to fully grip items again.” She lifts her arm and sets it down again, fist clenched as much as she can around the plaster.

Billy eyes her with a smirk and drops her at the door.

He’s back in forty-five minutes, gas tank full and a riotous bouquet in full bloom taking up space in the backseat. Max had shoved a huge handful of quarters at him before they left the house, Billy had made up the rest of the cost out of his meager savings.

“What’s this?” Susan asks as she slides into the passenger seat.

Billy coughs, feels the tips of his ears turning red in embarrassment. “He would have been real sorry today, and I’m not saying I’m like him. I don’t want to be like him.” Billy mumbles, more to the dashboard than the woman next to him.

“You’re not, Billy.” Susan tells him, voice just as quiet as they sit in the car looking out over the parking lot. “You couldn’t be.”

“The flowers though, they’re for you. Me and Max bought them, ‘course she could only contribute a few bucks. Just call it a survivor’s gift, I guess.” He starts the engine and the music blares from the speakers before he can ramble any more stupid words. Susan jumps at the wall of noise but holds the flowers in her lap, hand wrapping around the thornless stems.

Billy drives them home, to a house for three people. It’s half-packed, belongings put away into boxes. None of them want to stay there where they’ve all been bruised and little bent out of shape.

There’s a house about the same size down the street, it just needs a little work. Billy figures it’ll be a good time to see how Max handles herself around power tools. He has a feeling Susan won’t need any help.


End file.
